A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay! Here you go! Review?
Katniss POV
After the meeting, I go back to my family's compartment and flop on my bed. All I want to do is sleep for a very long time and only wake up to kill Snow. The sad part is that it's only lunchtime. I make no move to get up though; instead I just pull the blankets closer around my shoulders. Oh, how I wish that I didn't dump Peeta, telling me that Effie didn't die in vain, that I didn't kill her, and that Haymitch will be fine. But he's not here. He's not here because I told him not to be here. Because I pushed him out of my life.
I bury my head in my pillow, trying to staunch the tears that are starting to come. Why did I dump him? Is he really better off without me? He loved me, doesn't that mean that no matter how broken I am, he's always happier with me than without? I push the last thought out of my head. Peeta is much better off without me. A knock on the door startles me, and suddenly conscious of my tear stained appearance; I try to stall whoever it is.
"Just a minute!" I yell. "I'm, uh, getting dressed!"
I quickly rush to the bathroom and wipe the signs of tears from my face before opening the door. "Mockingjay." Finnick greets. "Quick, follow me; we're having an informal meeting at Haymitch's."
I follow behind Finnick, jogging to catch up with his long strides. I gag slightly as the stench hits me. Even here in Thirteen where Haymitch has to be more discreet about his drinking, his small compartment is repulsive. I openthe door and find Haymitch, Peeta, Gale and Cinna seated at a table.
"Nice of you to finally join us, Sweetheart." Haymitch sneers. "And look, you're actually sober and somewhat sane too!"
I inwardly sigh. Finnick and Cinna did not need to know about my alcohol binge. I snort at him. "Like your one to speak against drinking." Finnick's eyebrows shoot up and he holds back as he holds back a laugh. "And about the closet thing.."
"Closet thing?" Haymitch asks.
Crap. How am I going to explain this? I try and back pedal. "Oh, uh, nothing."
Finnick snorts. "They had to sedate you."
I scowl at him. "How'd you find out?"
He gives me a cocky grin. "I have my ways."
I roll my eyes. "Come on, what's the big deal? Can't a girl hide in a closet anymore?"
Gale speaks up somberly. "Not when they're screaming bloody murder."
I cross my arms as I feel Peeta's eyes on me. "I was not screaming bloody murder. I muffled it." I grumble the last part.
"Anyway." Haymitch starts, ignoring the banter in the room. "Snare boy here," He points his thumb at Gale. "Had a streak of brilliance and devised plan. He's going to hijack a hovercraft, and Finnick will fly us to the Capitol," I flinch slightly at the mention of the Capitol, "And we'll get my daughter and then fly home. You in or not?"
I voice my thoughts. "Do we really trust Finnick to be able to fly a hovercraft without killing us all?"
"Hey!" Finnick exclaims. "I just so happen to be a certified pilot."
"I'm in." I say. "When do we leave?"
"Tonight." Haymitch says. "One last thing, don't tell anybody anything. We're doing this unauthorized, so we don't want any outsiders involved."
"Done." I say, turning to go.
"And Katniss?" I turn around, shocked that Haymitch used my real name.
''Yes?" I say, observing Haymitch's eyes that glisten with unshed tears.
"Thanks." He says. He swallows the emotion in his voice and wipes it from his face. "Now will all of you go and leave me alone? I have a bottle of lonely alcohol to attend to."
I shake my head and leave, as do the others. I make my way back to my family's compartment, where I find my father, waiting for me no doubt.
"Hey." He says. "I came to get you for lunch, but you weren't here. "
"I wasn't hungry." I say, trying to come up with a believable story. "So I went for a walk." I flop down on my bed, more exhausted than ever.
"There's still plenty of time to eat, you missed breakfast this morning and I think you should eat." My father says, sitting down next to me.
"I'm really not hungry." I say honestly. "But I am really tired. I was thinking of taking a nap or something."
He pats my leg. "Alright." He says. "I know you had a rough night last night."
I take off my shoes but leave my socks on, not wanting to look at the spaces where my little toes used to be. My father stands and walks to the door, but his hand hovers above the doorknob.
"Anything the matter?" I ask.
He turns to face me. "Can… Can I tuck you in? Like I did when you were little?"
Considering I'm leaving on an unauthorized dangerous mission without anyone knowing where I went, I decide that for the time being it would be best to make my father happy while I can. "Of course." I slide my calves under the blanket and let my father pull it all the way up to my neck. I give a contented sigh and burrow into the lumpy mattress.
My father kisses my forehead. "Sleep tight."
Prim sits at a gravestone, sobbing. "You left me!" she screams. "You left me Katniss! You didn't even warn me! I hate you, Katniss! I hate you!"
"Prim!" I call, running towards her. I reach out to touch her shoulder, but my hand goes right through her. Only then do I see the inscription on the headstone.
Katniss Everdeen
May 8th, 2206- November 27th, 2223
Sister, Daughter, Victor
"I'm so sorry." I whisper.
President Snow waltzes over and places a bouquet of white roses on my grave. "Come with me, darling." He says to Prim.
"No!" she protests "I don't want to go!''
"Well you must." He hisses. "For you are a tribute in the Seventy Sixth Annual Hunger Games!"
"No!" She screams.
Suddenly, I'm no longer watching Prim, but Peeta instead. But I'm not a ghost now. He slides a blade over his neck. I pick up the note at his side, eloquently written as only Peeta can do. It essentially says that since I'm alive, he must die, since he can't stand to look at me without feeling worthless.
"But I love you." I whisper to his corpse, brushing the hair from his eyes.
Prim runs through a forest, dodging spears wildly. She falls into a pit of vipers, and the career pack from my first Games shows up and all at once they launch their weapons into her limbs, pinning her to the ground and blinding her with pain. They very slowly chop her up, inch by inch, savoring her extreme pain. When her legs and arms are gone, Cato raises his sword above his head, preparing his final blow-
"Katniss, wake up!" When my father wakes me up, I'm screaming and sweating, as always. This nightmare seemed worse than any other one I've had yet. I lean over and retch into the trash bin that I haven't remembered to pick up yet. I only get up a little water and leftover bile before I'm dry heaving for the second time today. After about a minute and a half, it's over and my mother presses the back of her hand to my forehead.
"You're running a little warm." She says, frowning.
I curl up, leaning against the wall and shaking from the sheer terror. I hear my mother walk over, carrying a sloshing bowl of water. I don't have to open my eyes to know that she intends to wipe my forehead down.
"No." I whisper faintly. I can't have another episode right now. I can't even shower yet, and even taking a sponge bath is something that often turns out badly.
"Katniss." A voice that I recognize as Gale says softly. "She needs to cool you down."
"Please." I ask, my chest still heaving wildly. "Just give me a minute."
"All right." My father says, apprehensive of my mental health. Gale reaches out his rough coal miner hands and strokes my arm, trying to calm me. It only reminds me of President Snow's voice in my nightmare, however.
I yank my arm away. "Don't." I say faintly. I focus on breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. Finally, I'm sure I'm not going to slip away and I open my eyes.
My mother cautiously raises the wet cloth to my head, and I tell her off. "I'm fine, really." My eyes dart around the room and don't see my younger sister. "Where's Prim?" I ask, worried that Snow really got her. I sit all the way up, grabbing the knife I keep under my mattress.
"She's over at my compartment, with Rory." Gale eyes the knife suspiciously. "You can drop that."
I laugh and hand him the object in question. "Here, you can have it. Probably best, anyway."
Gale grins and flips it over in his hands before giving a low whistle. "How'd you get your hands on a knife like this down here?"
I give him a sly grin as I stand up, taking care not to bump my head on the top bunk. "Hey, what can I say? I have connections." My eyes find the floor, grinning, and I notice with dismay that both my socks fell off. I start searching through the bed sheets, trying to find them.
''Looking for these?" Gale dangles the elusive grey socks directly in front of my nose and I turn around to face him.
"Yes!" I snap, not really all that annoyed. I grab the socks and notice how close our lips are. Gulping, I take a step back. Gale follows, but the back of his head hits the edge of the top bunk.
"Ow." He says good naturedly, rubbing the spot where it hit.
I grin and Gale bids a farewell, saying that there is a mandatory viewing in under five minutes and he best be back home by then.
"You mean we have to watch it again?''
Gale grimaces. "Apparently."
"That's what they called you into command for?" My father asks, after emptying the trash bin the contents of my stomach took refuge in.
"Yes." I reply. "They executed Effie Trinket."
My father's eyebrows burrow. "But why? Wasn't she opposed to the rebels?"
"No." I say. "She was, originally. But I guess after spending so much time watching tributes die and watching victors struggle, she realized that it wasn't all that the Capitol says it was."
Gale looks at the clock before excusing himself and heading back over to his family's compartment. Prim settles in front of the TV that will click on in a few minutes, and I hang in the back of the room until it hits me what I'm doing. I am running away from my demons. Just like what my mother did. This thought is so jarring, so undeniably real that I sit right next to Prim, giving her a reassuring smile.
Watching my escort's final moments for a second time is easier. I focus on the crowd, trying to find the most outrageous outfit in the sea of people watching and cheering. At first, I think that the woman dressed in a dress made entirely out of newspaper won, but a second look squashes that as I decide that the elderly man who is completely naked and covered entirely in glitter beats her.
The short broadcast ends and I look at my schedule. I have to shoot some propos and then dinner, and after dinner I'm supposedly going to bed, though I'll really be high-tailing it to the Capitol. I excuse myself, explaining that I have to go film, earning a worried glance passed between my parents. I ignore the last part and make my way to the Camera Room. Cinna greets me and hands me a garment bag. I unzip it, finding the back of an electric red dress that's pattered with flames beneath.
"What angle does Coin want?" I ask as Cinna ushers me into a dressing room.
"Fiery." He says with a twinkle in his eye. "And rebellious. The districts need some encouragement"
I shake my head with a smirk and Cinna turns around as I dress, and when I'm done I look into the mirror, awestruck. "Cinna." I breathe. "This is amazing."
Amazing is an understatement. The dress hugs me in all the right places, giving me some shape, but still making me look innocent. It's a fiery red with the emblem of my mockingjay stamped on the bottom right hand corner. The dress is almost completely open in the back, and falls just above my knee, but it's so gorgeous I can't bring myself to care about the amount of skin showing. It's strapless, but the neckline sits high on my chest.
Cinna carefully applies a touch of makeup to me before Peeta pokes his head in. "You ready to go?" His tone is icy, and Cinna is surprised.
"Yes." I say. Cinna hands me my shoes and I refrain from makeing a face. Six inch stiletto heels. Great. I slip them on and almost immediately nearly fall over. I may have gotten good at heels, but I've never worn any over four inches tall. Ever. So now I can barely walk, and I have to film with Peeta, who doesn't want to talk to me. Peeta offers me his arm and I take it, and use the added height of my heels to my advantage. "I did it for your own good." I hiss in his left ear.
"How so?" He whispers icily with his teeth gritted in a false smile.
I don't respond, because Plutarch comes and starts positioning Peeta and I, moving away and head together, giving me a bow, and telling us what to say and how to say it. Apparently, I'm to shoot arrows around Peeta after we 'show our love for one another'. Peeta and I are lead fifty feet over to a back drop- I'm pleased to say I only tripped twice- before we're shoved together.
Peeta and I are now quite accustomed to acting in love. Peeta puts his arm around me, but I notice how firm it is. Unloving, really. Lips brush ears and other lips, the cold white lights highlighting it all. He pulls me close, and I try to whisper I still love you with my body and my mind, but he doesn't get it. He assumes the way I my back arches into him, and the imperceptible sigh, even the way I move my fingers is for show. I go up on my toes, the heels still being an inch or two too short to allow me direct access to his lips, and kiss him. Hard.
He's surprised. This isn't in the script. Peeta, ever the showman though, takes it in stride. He tightens his grip on me and I grip his suit coat hungrily. I feel that fire again, the one I felt on the beach. I'm hungry for Peeta. For him to make me feel loved. Peeta lifts me off the ground and I respond by wrapping my legs around him. This is too much for the seventeen- year- old- boy side of Peeta, and he pushes me against the nearest wall. I eagerly slide my tongue into his mouth and he moans embarrassingly loud and slides his hands down my hips.
"Jesus Crist! We do not want to see you and Peeta taking off each other's clothes, Sweetheart!" Haymitch shouts, exasperated.
I blush and jump off Peeta quickly, but can't balance in the heels and fall directly on my rear. Peeta's hand that helps me up is all too formal but I take it anyway, ever conscious of being filmed. We stick to the script after that, and Peeta is still as a statue when I shoot arrows around him, never once touching him. After I've shot all the arrows I was instructed to, I go one step further and shoot a heart around Peeta's head. Cressida smiles and Peeta takes my hand once more for the cameras. As soon as the devices are turned off, however, we separate as far as we can. Cinna tells me that my regular clothes have been sent back to my room, and I begin to yank off my shoes before Plutarch stops me.
"I would keep those on. The dress looks better with them and our forces have been feeling down." He says. I sigh and fall six times on my way back my left ankle deciding to protest somewhere along the line.
I limp in to my family's compartment and find Gale, Hazell, and Mr. Hawthorne talking to my parents. I sit down on my bed and finally, gratefully yank off my heels. I can feel the eyes in the room shift to me and Gale's gaze lingers a little too long on my chest for a close friend before he strides over, inspecting one of the shoes.
His brow furrows. "It looks like a weapon." He says, only half joking.
I ponder this for a moment. "Actually." I muse. "You probably could kill someone with it." I kick the backs of Gale's knees, landing him on the ground. I pick up one of the heels, and briefly recall what the trainer at the knives station said on stabbing someone just before my second games. "If you kicked someone hard enough here;" I wiggle the heel of the shoe around on a certain part of his back. "The heel would go between two vertebrae and puncture a lung and possibly your heart."
"Was it really nessicary to pin me to the ground to say that?" Gale asks, standing up.
"Hey, you try walking around in these," I hold up the heels. "For two hours and see if you're in a good mood."
"When are you ever in a good mood?" Gale teases and I laugh, along with Hazell and my parents.
I give a tinkling laugh, trying to conceal my laugh as I walk to the dresser and open my drawer, pulling out some of the issued grey clothes. I can feel my mother watching me as I turn and head in the direction of the bathroom so I can change.
"Does your ankle hurt?" She asks. "It looks swollen."
"It's fine." I reply, shutting the door.
I struggle with the zipper on the dress a bit before finally managing to break free. I push it down around my ankles and step out of it, shaking my pants out of their fold. I step in my pants and button them before yanking the zipper up and putting on my socks. I slide the long sleeve shirt on and put a sweater on too, seeing as District Thirteen is always about the same temperature that District Twelve is during early spring. I test my ankle, feeling how painful it really is, before remembering to wash the makeup from my face. I scrub my face raw before turning and exiting, not bothering to put on shoes. As I walk into the living-slash- sleeping area, I'm suddenly aware of the elaborate braid my hair is in, so I yank out the pins as I walk to put my dress in my drawer, leaving my hair loose and wavy, floating all the way down my back.
Gale looks at his watch. "Dinner time!" He chimes. He looks at my feet. "Might I suggest shoes, Catnip?"
I laugh and grab some shoes, instantly deciding not to sit down to put them on as that might make my mother suspicious. I slip my left shoe on quite easily but realize the flaw in my logic as I move to put on my right. Putting on my shoe without sitting down will mean putting all my weight on my left foot. I manage to do it silently with only a grimace, and thank god no one is looking in my direction. We walk out the door and Gale and I walk ahead of our parents and Gale speaks quietly into my ear.
''Will your ankle be okay during our mission?" he asks.
"Yes." I answer.
There's a vibrating in his pocket and he pulls out. "Coin wants you in her office pronto." He says, loud enough for my parents to hear. I sigh and wave goodbye, wondering what horrors she has in store for me now.
Coin is seated at her desk, leaning on it heavily for support when I walk in.
"Katniss." She greets me as if we were old friends, not two people who want the other dead.
"Alma." I greet, mocking her.
She fake frowns. "I assure you, this is a friendly visit." Her voice is weak.
I snort. "Friendly by whose terms?"
"I'm pleased with the footage." Coin begins. "So, I wanted to let you choose between a few rewards: A bar, a moving staircase, or heated compartments."
Well, I know one of those things will come in handy if I have to deal with her on a regular basis. "A bar." I say.
"Dismissed." She says. I nod and turn before Coin calls one more thing. ''Hopefully we can work like this more often!"
My voice is dangerously icy when I turn and face her. "Good luck."
